


What’s in a Name

by UncleInTheField



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Before he fell, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm still soft, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, after he fell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncleInTheField/pseuds/UncleInTheField
Summary: It’s a story about angels, demons, falling, sacrifice, and most importantly, love.





	What’s in a Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [and, so on](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193052) by [PaintedVanilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla). 



> I'm sure it's been done. But this is my version. And I love it. Hope you love it too!  
> This is inspired by this great work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193052  
> It's so beautiful!

Agnes Nutter was one special lady, not just because she is, without doubt, the best prophet in history. Her personalities are priceless above all. But today we are just going to focus on the prophet bit of her spectacularity to stay aligned with our story.

You see throughout the history, among all the prophets that have walked and talked on earth, most of them were more like messengers, conveying messages supposedly from the almighty, no matter they are talking truly the voice from above, or they might have been having too much poorly distilled liquor. They were only stating facts, nothing more. None of them really sought out for the why, the cause, the roots of the prophecies. Maybe they never cared. They had be pretty content about the fact that they knew something no one else knew. It’s the secret of happiness, winning in mundane comparisons. Or, maybe they were never given the abilities to know the why, which they really couldn’t complain about since they were already better than the contemporary majorities.

But Agnus was truly different. Since the beginning as she knew she was not going to be like any other women around the same era, being nothing but the incubators of the next generation, she was determined to give it all out, the reason, the cause, the future, and the consequences. However, Agnus was not hasty and just started without planning. There were priorities, and she was pretty good at keeping the order, in fear of she might not have enough time to finish. Even though she knew her destiny, there was nothing wrong to doubt and take precautions. Therefore, Agnus started with the boring stuff first, the prophecies, the future, which would probably save or destroy the world, and which would bring benefit to her kids, and kids afterwards. It’s a curtesy to her descendants, poor bastards would have no choice but to follow her path.

After she finished her most famous work - the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnus Nutter, she took a moment and lay down her pen, contemplating. Was it really worth it narrating the biography of two divine creatures and their love story? Was it really her place to tell it?

In the end, Agnus made a decision. Yes, she was going to write it down. Whether there would be anyone to read it, they deserved it being told at least once. She deserved it, just to let it all out. After all it was her who burdened the truths.

It’s a story about angels, demons, falling, lying, and most importantly, love.

It would be a lot more attractive, and make total sense to tell this story in Agnus’ exact words. But unfortunately we cannot do that. Because the manuscript was burnt the first day after the failed Armageddon by her most beloved grand…grand…daughter. Also, I, being the author, simply is unqualified to do so. Apologies for my incompetence in story telling. We’ll just have to do with my style, and live with it. But please stay toned, it’s not that bad when you get used to it. (*smiling and nose scrunching*)

And here it goes.

* * *

Once upon the time…wait, that does not make any sense, does it? Time has been there before anything. There can be nothing that existed before time. Simply impossible. Even when god created the world, it was a recorded time, which means time was there already. You can’t argue with me.

Anyways, let’s start over.

It was a long time ago, so long that there was no world yet, no any creatures, fossilized or not, let alone humans. At the time, there was the almighty herself, her angels, the Adversary, and his demons. Yes, it was after the morning star had fallen.

At that time, the planet earth was just created, and god had already decided what was to happen, world to be created, creatures to be born, humans to be molded in shapes. But at the same time, everything was still relatively new, the goodness, and the devil.

Although lines had been drawn, angels flying up the heavens, demons sinking down the lavas, things started to get complicated again after some peaceful time. All the demons were still fiends, along with most angels being holy, but there were two angels that were special. One of them were doubtful, doubting anything with no specific reasons. The other one, without any doubt about anything, was just simply fond of the doubtful one.

These two, at the time, were known as Jophirale and Aziraphale.

Jophirale was bored, and most of the time unsure about a lot of things, his existence, the heavens, the hell, and sometimes this warm feeling in his chest when he saw Aziraphale around him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had no doubt for anything. He had upmost trust in the almighty, and also his fondness towards others. Unlike other angels who were only friendly to one another because they were told that was what they were supposed to do as angels, Aziraphale genuinely liked to be friends with all of them, caring, and thinking the best of them.

Therefore, it was not out of character for Aziraphale to be worried about his best friend Jophirale. He could not understand why his friend was always sulking alone when everyone else was singing and dancing joyfully. Well the singing and dancing started to get tiring eventually, even Aziraphale started to feel it nothing but a drag. But still, what was Jophirale pondering that gave him such a wistful look, and sometimes even made him look sad? It was unbearable for Aziraphale to see him like that. In the end he was quite devastated, honestly. There seemed nothing he could do to bring Jophirale back from his deep thoughts. They were really pointless, in Aziraphale’s opinion, not doing him any good at all, nothing but furrowing his beautifully shaped eyebrows mostly.

“Can you stop doing that? Just do me a favour, please?”

“What?”

“You’re frowning again, Jophirale.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s right with that?”

“Why does it bother you, angel?”

“I don’t know. You look sad. And it does not make me feel any better.”

“Do you always have such empathy towards others, angel?”

“No, not really. No one really do it but you, Jophirale. And I don’t really spend that much time with others to find out if I do, honestly.”

“And why is that?”

Aziraphale frowned at that. He did not know why.

“Why do you spend more time with me, angel? Why not others?”

Aziraphale did not respond but kept frowning.

Jophirale narrowed his eyes at him and came closer, so close he could hear the slight flapping of his wings.

“I don’t know, Jophirale,” the angel exclaimed, retreating, “why are you doing this to me? I just care about you.”

“How much do you care about me, Aziraphale? And why?”

Jophirale knew this was wrong. He was hurting Aziraphale, hurting him with nothing but his words, hurting him more than tearing out his wings. Well, that was just an analogy Jophirale assumed. He would never do such a thing to Aziraphale, not even plucking a feather from him. He did not like what he was doing, either. But he could not give up, could not let go when he felt he was so close to something that was so bafflingly important.

But Aziraphale did not say anything.

Jophirale lost his patience.

“Do you love me, angel?”

“Of course I do, Jophirale. We are angels. We are supposed to love. What kind of question is that?”

“No, not that.”

“What exactly are you talking about, Jophirale? You make me so confused.”

“I don’t know! But I know I didn’t mean that kind of love, not the same. Just love, angel! Love! Do you love me?”

Jophirale saw that Aziraphale was about to cry. He got scared for the first time, which really made no sense since he was an angel. He was not supposed to feel fear, not even in front of Satan himself.

Jophirale came up to Aziraphale and cupped his face in his palms. He took a deep breath, and started to explain by saying what he himself felt.

“Do you love me, angel? Do you desire me? Do you care about me more than anything else? Do you want nothing but good for me, and would you die or kill for that?”

Completely defeated, Aziraphale seriously thought about what Jophirale just said without knowing what they actually meant, and nodded.

And then, right at the moment, both of them shivered. Little did they know, they just created something utterly new. Forbidden or not, it was definitely something not given by the almighty. And for that matter, there had to be consequences. 

* * *

God is truly a kind God. The Almighty loves all the things she created. They are her children. However, it is difficult to be a single parent, especially when your kids are some miraculous, winged angels that can easily rebel and try to destroy what you have worked so hard on. It had happened once, not ever again.

To make things work, and keep everything under control, discipline is key. The order has to be obeyed at all times. If they are doing something that they are not supposed to do, they must be punished, setting an example to all the others so no one would tempt to do the similar. But as all parents, the almighty was not always on top of all things. There is bound to be a delay for her knowledge of what her kids are up to. And it’s this gap between the conduct and being found that changed everything.

After the little revelation they had, Jophirale was the first, and might be the only one of the two, to panic. He knew certainly he had disobeyed god’s will and did something he was not supposed to do. He could not figure out what was so bad about loving someone. Although, it was different, a different type of love, the type that none had had before. You could do great things for this love, also terrible things on the contrary. Maybe that alone would be enough for the punishment.

But what would the punishment be? Well, there was only one punishment anyone knew of, that is to perish. To be wiped out for eternity. Normally being an angel, Jophirale would accept anything from the almighty without any question, even death, but not this time. Because Aziraphale was involved with him. Jophirale does not want him to die.

They could run off together. They have powers. They have wings. It’s a big universe. There would be a lot of places for them to hide from the wrath of the almighty sent along with the troop of their peers. It seemed to be a feasible idea.

But then Jophirale thought of Aziraphale. Immediately he knew it was not going to work out. Aziraphale had the purest soul of all, love for all, unbeatable faith for the almighty. Making him flee would be asking him to betray god, to stand against all the things he was. It would mean for Aziraphale to fall.

As Jophirale shivered at the idea of Aziraphale falling, he thought of something else.

He could fall.

At first Jophirale thought it was the most absurd thing he had ever thought of. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it might be the only way that could save Aziraphale.

If Jophirale fell, all strings would be cut loose. He would disappear from heaven, and his past too, as if he had never existed. It was guaranteed. It’s written in all angels now, as a procedure. After the ex-angels had fallen with Satan, the almighty had made it this way so no one from heaven would remember who they were or what they had done before they fell. Therefore the angels would not try to figure out why they would choose to fall, and eventually follow them. It’s quite smart actually. Out of sight, out of mind. In this case, out of mind, out of trouble.

Of course, the angels would still be informed that someone fell. His name would still be there, they would still know that it was an angel with that name that fell. But that’s it, nothing more. Aziraphale would be out of the picture. He would have nothing to do with all this. He would forget him.

Aziraphale would forget him. This might be the only down side of this solution. Aziraphale would forget Jophirale. He would forget them, what they had, what they shared, what they created. It’s a pity. But then it would not matter if neither of them existed. If Aziraphale was gone.

But Aziraphale would be safe. He would be innocent again if Jophirale fell before the almighty found out.

Therefore Jophirale made a decision. He looked at Aziraphale for the last time, who was talking to Gabriel not too far away at the time. Hopefully they would not be close friends or anything afterwards; never fond of that fella; too much fake smiles; Jophirale thought and left.

* * *

Jophirale sauntered on earth, alone. He was about to fall. But he did not know how. It’s not like there would be a manual somewhere giving instructions on how to proceed the falling. Jophirale just stood there. He looked down and saw he was holding his flaming sword. He never noticed that he was holding it the whole time.

How silly!

Certainly he could not bring the sword with him to hell. It’s too holy. Jophirale thought of what to do about it. Aziraphale could have it. He did not really have anything to defend himself, not that Jophirale want him to have to do that anyways, but you can never go wrong to be prepared. The staff Aziraphale was holding all the time did not seem to be useful at all in Jophirale’s opinion. Nevertheless, he decided to give his sword to Aziraphale. And he did, just by the thought of it.

And then what? Jophirale wondered. He still did not know what to do, but he knew if he got to go, he got to go with style.

For one last time, Jophirale stretched out his shiny, white wings. He reached out his hands, closed his eyes, and bowed his head.

Oh, the dark lord…

And it was done.

Jophirale should really have thought it through a little bit more, not that he would have changed his mind or anything like that. He would do it over and over again if he had to. The reason why he should have thought it through was that he was not prepared for what was going to happen to him after he fell. It was silly for him not to think that Hell might have something similar like wiping out the memory after one angel fell. Of course there was! Otherwise how could someone expect all the demons to work in the dark, stinky hellhole, literally, without reminiscing how glorious their lives used to be and wanting to go back?

To be fair, there was really nothing Jophirale could do about it. Satan would not change rules only for him. Too much paperwork. It was already quite a struggle for him to make the demons keep things on file in the first place.

Losing the memories of Aziraphale was definitely an unexpected disappointment. But as Jophirale fell, reappeared from flames with a pair of ashy black wings, he felt a huge relief in his chest. He knew out of the blue he just did something right. He felt righteousness, which was quite an odd thing for a demon to feel, really.

At the same time in heaven, all angels froze for a short while. And then everything was back to what it was. An angel has fallen, everyone knew. How pitiful! But nobody really cared. Nobody cared except for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was standing there, a flaming sword in his hand. Since when did he have a flaming sword? Since…since he was given the sword. That’s right, he was given the sword by…by the almighty, of course. Who else would have the power to give magical artifacts to angels? But what was this feeling in his chest, this loss and sorrow? What did he lose? And why would he lose anything? Aziraphale felt doubt, which was quite an odd thing for an angel to feel, really.

* * *

There was a new mission. Someone needed to climb up on earth and make some trouble in the Garden. No one wanted to do it. Too many angels around. Too bright. For someone once had been part of the light, they got used to the darkness too quickly in Crawley’s opinion. He didn’t mind the garden, really. Therefore he was given the mission.

Crawley did what he thought he was supposed to do, tempting Eve to take a bite of the Apple. He felt quite accomplished and decided to stay for a while before crawling back, there was no rush for him as he was not really fond of the sulphuric smell and the darkness down there anyways. Too bad he could not stay too long, the first storm was about to go down. It would be a pity to get his newly nourished hair all soaked. But a short moment upon the wall would be nice, thought Crawley as he slowly wound his way up.

Someone was already there. An angel. Crawley should avoid him. But somehow he did not have the same threat or resentment for this one like he had for others. He decided to go and stand beside him.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” he tried.

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

And then they started to talk. They introduced themselves to each other. They were talking about the incident, Crawley’s achievement, that just happened. Crawley did not really care what they were talking about, to be honest. He just felt like to talk to him, and the topic was running thin.

All of a sudden, Crawley noticed there was something missing in the scene. Somehow he was sure the angel should have had something with him. A flaming sword, it is. Why a flaming sword, Crawley asks himself. Do they not all have something glorious and magical? A flaming sword seemed to fit for this one.

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” Crawley asked and saw the angel got rather embarrassed, “you did! It was flaming like anything. What happened to it? Lost it already, haven’t you?” Crawley ended his grilling with a tone of knowing and slight reprimand. But honestly, how would he know?

Apparently Aziraphale gave it away. Crawley was intrigued. And at the same time a little bit bitter about it. But he did not dwell on the bitterness. And as Aziraphale got all flustered, trying to explain himself, Crawley could not help but feel something special growing in his chest.

It’s going to be fun with him. Crawley thought to himself.

Soon enough, the first thunder roared, and another. Crawley looked at the sky and started to nudge slowly towards Aziraphale.

It started raining. But nothing dropped on Crawley. He looked up and saw Aziraphale’s wing shielding over his head.

And here it began.

* * *

Crawley changed his name. It’s Crowley now. Actually he had changed it quite a while ago. He did not like the old one. It was not his name originally. It was given by the prince, when he chose serpent as his disguise. It was too obvious, and not tasteful at all.

Crowley, on the other hand, is different. He liked the sound of it. Not much too different, but it somehow had a rich tone to it. And most importantly, Aziraphale did not seem to mind it.

It’s been a while since he had walked on earth. Crowley had seen changes from good to bad, and back to good again, and again back to bad. He started to see the trend, and right now what was trending was that people started to use surnames, symbolic words that represented nothing but fame in vain.

Crowley’d got a surname. But it was the first name that bothered him. It was fine before, but now whenever Crowley was trying to do his deeds in temptation, it started to get harder and harder for him to buddy around with people calling him “Sir Crowley”. Too formal. He needed something more casual, something chic.

Speaking of chic, there would be nothing more chic than being invited to one of Shakespeare’s plays in the theatre. Aziraphale was quite fond of him lately. But Crowley did not like him. He’s funny ones were fun. Sure, you don’t really need high art to laugh at a few silly words. It was his tragic ones that Crowley really hated. Especially the one about two miserable lovers from two rival families that killed themselves in the end due to miscommunication and false planning.

“Complete dud!” Crowley would comment using Shakespeare’s exact words.

Also, he hated it because it had this somewhat similarity that Crowley could not quite put his finger on it. He just hated it.

And then this happened.

“Crowley, I think you might want to take a look at this.”

Aziraphale walked up to Crowley, and laid an opened book in front of him.

“What is it?” Crowley looked down at the book and raised his eyebrows.

“Just take a peek. I bet you will be quite proud of yourself!”

Crowley doubted it. But he took a look anyways. And he saw something like this.

> Never; he will not:  
>  Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety…

“That slimy snob! Stealthy fraud!” Crowley exclaimed.

“Oh my god, Crowley, don’t be so mad,” Aziraphale sighed and shook his head at Crowley, ”are you not proud? Your words are going to be worshipped as one of the classics forever!”

“He stole my words!”

“Don’t say that, Crowley. Don’t tell me you did not know he was going to use it in his plays when you said it. You were apparently showing off!”

“Well, I…” Crowley shut his mouth. The angel was not completely wrong. “what is this thing called, anyway?” asked Crowley as he flipped the book to see the cover.

“Antony and Cleopatra. A Roman tragedy. Quite fascinating.”

“Antony…interesting.” Crowley muttered.

He was sure that they would have Shakespeare down there eventually. He was certain from the beginning. It made him feel better. And now looking at the title of the book, Crowley had another idea.

It was actually centuries later when Crowley’s full name was revealed to Aziraphale. He came up with it quite a long time ago. He just never had a chance to tell Aziraphale, nor did he feel comfortable enough to do so. Eventually it was some half-witted Nazi that ratted him out by accident.

“Anthony?”

“You don’t like it?”

“no, no I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it.”

That was a relief.

“What does the ‘J’ stand for?”

“Er…it’s just a ‘J’, really.”

It was true. It bothered Crowley quite a while when he was trying to figure out the middle part. He wanted something meaningful but not something just fancy. He wanted it to be related to himself. What was his name before? Crowley eventually settled on using his name before the falling. Normal demon would hate to do that, recalling the old life. But Crowley did not really care. But he could not figure it out. He simply could not remember. The removal of the memories was one of the best spells Satan had ever produced. Crowley was not powerful enough to fight that.

However, like all the other things that were created by Satan, all flawed, the spell was too. Just not so much. Eventually, only an initial popped out.

It was ‘J’.

And Crowley was not lying. It’s just a ‘J’, really.

* * *

Crowley was never a big fan of the idea of choosing sides. Why would there have to be only two sides? Why would there have to be only the good and the bad, the light and the dark, the white and the black? Crowley did not like it. Even the light was not just white. It’s a spectrum of colours, a ‘rain bow’, in fact. Crowley was there and performed the miracle in the same room with Isaac. He would know.

So why on earth did he have to be a demon, and only make friends of demons, and only do temptations?

You see? Here, Crowley just proved a point that although memory could be erased, sides could be chosen, you can never change a person. Even though Crowley had abandoned his name and joined the dark side, he was the still the same being that was just doubtful about anything with no specific reason.

So there you have Crowley, or formally Jophirale if you’d prefer it, having existential crisis before and after falling. It was merely imprinted in him. It was ineffable. Aziraphale would comment, if he knew.

Also, what was also imprinted was his fondness towards Aziraphale. It did not change at all whether he fell or not, whether he had his memories of creating love with him when he was still an angel or not.

He’d cared about him, worried that he’d been punished after he gave away his sword. He’d tried some raw shellfish even though he did not like fish at all - just not a natural prey for serpents if you are wondering - only because the angel got exited and tried to ‘tempt’ him. He’d looked for and told Aziraphale first about his commendation when he did not really do anything evil other than quote what humans had created themselves. Also, he’d tap danced into a church, a burning consecrated ground, just to prevent the angel from being inconveniently discorporated.

Do we need more evidence to show that Crowley loves Aziraphale?

He’d drive through a ring of raging hell flame in his Bentley to fight beside an angel, to terminate but in the end to save the antichrist, to save the world, for Heaven’s sake! What do you want more from a demon?

It was never a question for Crowley that he loved the angel. The only thing that Crowley was not doubtful about. But he never had the guts to let Aziraphale know about it. For Aziraphale was always bound by his title as an angel, and Crowley’s a demon, even though it was quite obvious that he too had the same feeling about Crowley. It said it all when he refused to give Crowley the holy water he asked for but finally complied saying he did not want him to risk his life even for something dangerous.

Crowley respected Aziraphale. He did not want to trouble him. But he still felt that after being friends for six thousand years Aziraphale would at least agree with him being on their own side. But Aziraphale did not.

He was lying, obviously.

Crowley discovered that later as he recalled the way Aziraphale’s eyes flickering and his lower lip quivering when he said it’s over. But at the moment, he’d reached his breaking point and left, heartbroken.

But truly it was not over. He tried again, persuading the angel to run away with him. Strangely he felt that it was not the first time he had the idea.

It did not work out.

And then one thing led to another, long story short, Crowley shed tears, drank a lot of Rye, had his Bentley exploded, and was even threatened that Aziraphale would never talk to him anymore, which was more terrifying then the fear that heir grand face-off scheme would not work.

In the end, the world was saved. And after all the trouble Crowley had been through, he was left alone, even just for a bit. And Aziraphale agreed that they were on their own side. Crowley was thrilled. And what do you think was the first thing he did?

He tempted Aziraphale for a spot of lunch, and dined with him at the Ritz.

Crowley was conventional, and there was still chivalry in this world. Not so much though as he led the angel back to his bookshop on his bed. Also, just a side note, completely unrelated to the situation, Crowley was sure his angel had not used his bed for a century at least, from the way it squeaked.

He’s buying a new one for him.

But it made sense, because as an angel Aziraphale never had the need to sleep. Maybe you would argue why he would have a bed in the first place. I’d say it’s god’s ineffable plan. He planned it so Crowley would sleep on it. You can’t argue with me.

Anyways, Crowley slept. He did not need to sleep as he is a demon, but he still adapted to this human habit. He liked it, and found it quite enjoyable and refreshing, also great to avoid dull and awkward times like the 14th century, the miserable, carless times.

So Crowley slept, and woke up the next day finding himself alone in Aziraphale’s bed. He called the angel’s name but no one answered. Crowley wondered where he had gone, and also what he did all night while Crowley was asleep. Did he just watch him sleep? That seemed to be creepy, but Crowley was keen on it.

After some fumbling and rustling, Crowley decided to get up instead of waiting for Aziraphale in bed. And as he sat up and looked for his glasses, he found a note Aziraphale left for him on the nightstand.

> Gabriel wanted to have a word with me at Berkley Square. Do not worry.

“Oh it’s not subtle at all, is it? If you don’t want me to worry, then why leave the note?”

Of course Crowley would worry. And why on earth would Gabriel want to have a word with Aziraphale?

Well, do you still remember the part at the beginning about Agnes being a special lady? Yes, that! You thought it was completely a waste, and not relevant at all, didn’t you? Got you!

As we were saying at the beginning, Agnes decided to tell the story about an angel that had fallen in love with another angel, and fallen so he could protect him. It was truly beautiful, and marvellous. She told the story in the disguise of the second volume of her prophecies. And she decided to send them to Anathema the first day after the apocalypse. And maybe she knew it, or maybe she did not, Anathema was going to burn them. And the heaven was watching when she did that.

It was Micheal’s idea. She was quite proud of herself scouting the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley, and then she took a big hit when seeing Crowley bathing in the holy water without perishing. She was appalled and felt rather ashamed of herself for that. Therefore she suggested to keep an eye on them, which means playing live stream holograms of the kids, Aziraphale and Crowley, and Anathema. Micheal even volunteered herself to monitor them. She said they might be conspiring, and if they could watch and got ahead of them, they may still start the war and win. It might be the chance to turn the table. Gabriel was very touched by her enthusiasm and gave her a nod of approval.

She regretted it at first, was bored by the kids, and then grossed out by what she saw at Anathema’s and Aziraphale’s. And just as she was so traumatized that she was going to hand in her resignation, she saw what Anathema was burning. And she was able to save the manuscript with a single miracle.

It was not the further prophecies of Agnes Nutter that they found as expected. Gabriel was a little disappointed at first. But then as he kept reading it, he had a plan.

The plan was simple. Gabriel was going to use this against Aziraphale. It would not work if he tried the same thing on Crowley. Crowley did it, so although he did not know about it, he would not be too surprised and would not go all crazy because of it.

But Aziraphale was different. He was always trying to protect others, care for others. If he knew that someone sacrificed so much for him, he would not handle it very well. And that was what Gabriel wanted.

He was simply going to tell Aziraphale the truth, letting him know that Crowley fell to protect him. And what was he going to do? He would be filled with reckless sentiments, anger towards heaven, regret and self-accusation towards himself, and probably even blame towards Crowley for the sacrifice he made without consulting him. And then what? He might stand against Heaven. Oh Gabriel would love to take him down right away. Or he would fall, then it’s even better. It’s up to the evil to punish the evil. And it would be more painful and destructive.

In a word, it was a death trap for Aziraphale. If hell fire would not destroy him, this would. Gabriel thought to himself as he waited in the park.

“Long time no see, Gabriel.”

“Hi, Aziraphale! How’s it going?”

“What do you want? I thought we agreed that you’d leave me alone.”  
  
“yes, yes, I remember that. How could I forget? It was such a miracle! But don’t worry. I’m completely friendly here. I’m just an old friend, want to have a chat with you about our good old times.”

“I’m afraid we are not really old friends, Gabriel. And we did not really have any good old times to chat about. Goodbye, Gabriel.”

Aziraphale turned away, but it was too late.

“You are right, we were not. But you and Jophirale were very close, don’t you remember? Oh that’s your devil boyfriend’s old name by the way."

* * *

As Crowley drove close to Beverly, he could see a crowd of dark cloud started to form from the east. Well that’s definitely not a good sign. It’s meant to be bad luck.

Crowley sped and stopped the car right outside the gate and miracled himself to where Aziraphale was. What he saw was truly horrendous.

He saw a very angry Aziraphale, wrath materialized around him as a silver hull of light. It was bad. And what was worse was that he also saw a gloating Gabriel standing beside the angel. The smile on his face was so evil that Crowley was certain that if he spread his wings Crowley would see them black.

But Crowley did not care about that. He ran towards the two of them, shouting Aziraphale’s name. But somehow he was muted. Gabriel had prepared for his interruption. And now as he saw Aziraphale turn to him with crazy eyes, he was prepared to strike.

Crowley was desperate as he saw a shiny sword gathering in Gabriel’s hand.

And then all of a sudden, he saw Gabriel had this weird, strangled look on his face, and then as if being a soap bubble, the archangel popped and disappeared.

* * *

A few minute ago, in Hogback wood, at Adam and Them’s den, the kids started to reminisce about their strange adventure for the tenth time in two days.

“So who were the short stinky lady and the tall massive guy again?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m certain that one of them was the head of hell, and the other of heaven.”

“Oh yeah, I can totally see that lady being from hell. She looked like it.”

“Are you attempting daily sexism again?”

“No, I’m just saying she looked like she’s from hell, with the smell, and the flies and all that. Did you not see it?”

“Yeah, we all did. But the tall guy, is he really from heaven? I don’t believe that. He looked too scary to be an angel.”

“Is this racial stereotyping?”

“Com’on, Pepper, take a break! But I agree, he did look too scary for an angel. Not cute or lovely like the ones in the paintings at all.”

“Maybe you are right. Maybe he was not an angel.”

“Then what was he?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really think he exists. Maybe he was just a nightmare, like the four bicycle riders. No, he does not exist. That’s it. End of discussion. Let’s play a new game now.”

“Did you just conduct dictatorship on us?”

“Pepper!”

* * *

Gabriel was gone. Crowley was not the only one that was shocked. Aziraphale was too. And the shock cancelled out some of his anger, before he spiralled to something worse.

Crowley could hear himself again. And he called Aziraphale’s name as he ran to him and took his head in his hands.

“Are you alright?”

Aziraphale looked at him with a puzzled look. Gradually Crowley could see he came back to himself, and just as he was about to sigh in relief, he saw the anger in Aziraphale’s eyes again.

“What’s the matter?”

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Did you know why you fell?”

“What?”

“Did you know what you became a demon for?”

“No? I thought I just found it boring one day and sauntered…”

“No, Crowley! You fell because of me! You fell so I would not perish!”

Crowley did not expect that. But was that really a surprise for him though? Not really. Actually now it kind of all made sense. Things started to pull themselves together. Mysteries were being unveiled. All the unnameable feelings he had over the thousands of years were now understood.

Crowley still did not know exactly what Aziraphale was saying, but he somehow felt truly relieved.

And what does that matter, anyways? Why would Crowley care why he fell? He had fallen. It’s done, and he would do it again. Case closed.

Crowley came back from his thoughts, and saw the angel crying in front of him. And that, Crowley really did not expect.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Listen to me, angel,” Crowley cooed and brought Aziraphale into his arms, “it’s over, angel. And it does not matter. I didn’t care.”

“But I do! You should not have to do that!” Aziraphale sniffed and protested。

“Look at me, angel.” Crowley pulled back and looked into Aziraphale’s eyes, hands holding the angel’s, “I would do it again if I had to. It does not matter. Just think about it this way, if I had not fallen, we would not be here today. What was the word you used? Ineffable? yes, that’s it. It’s just ineffable, isn’t it?”

“But…”

“And, I’m not fallen anymore. We are on our side now, remember? So if I chose to fall or not, it really doesn’t matter. Not anymore!”

Aziraphale lowered his head, and wiped his eyes with his hands. Eventually he gave a slight nod.

“And angel, please don’t do this again.”

“What?”

“Being all angry like this. Anger is not a good look on you really. I can say this because I tried it myself. No, did not like it. Happy is better on you.”

“Crowley!”

As they walked out the square to Crowley’s Bentley, that was accompanied by a police writing up a ticket right beside it. Crowley suddenly remembered something.

“What was it, by the way?” Crowley snapped his finger and the police was gone, teleported to his bedroom where his wife was being intimate with their family doctor.

“What?”

“My name. What was it before?” Crowley asked as he opened the door.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Sure, why not?”

“It was Jophirale.”

“Ah, that was what the ‘J’ stands for!”

Crowley tumbled to this revelation, and then stood there for a second, waiting for more lightnings of memories to strike. No, still can’t remember anything.

“So, which one would you prefer now, my dear?” Aziraphale asked tentatively as both of them got into the car.

Crowley started the car and shrugged.

“Whichever you like, angel. What’s in a name, anyways, that which is called by you, by any other name would sound as lovely.”

“Oh, Crowley.”

—FIN—

**Author's Note:**

> # Jophirale, Crowley’s name here, it is originated from Jophiel, who is an archangel that has a flaming sword.
> 
> # I could not get rid of the fact that “age cannot writher…” thing is in Antony an Cleopatra, and that Crowley called himself Anthony.
> 
> # I know both of them from the above are nonsense. But I love them, and love how they worked together here. Hope you enjoyed it, too. Thank you again!
> 
> # Please leave a comment! Please! Pretty please!


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